The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Hermione could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Within a week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. There was a great wave of talk about copying them in the immediate aftermath of their departure. Hermione frequently overheard students saying things like, "Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "One more lesson like that, and I might just do a Weasley."
Fred and George had ensured nobody would likely forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on removing the swamp that filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch were observed trying various means of removing it without success. Eventually, the area was roped off, and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Hermione knew without a single doubt that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer watching Umbridge struggle… and Hermione loved them for that.
Inspired by Fred and George's example, a significant number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. Somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leaping on Umbridge when she entered and trying to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons. This ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.
Hermione was proud to say she was skiving on her Prefect duties and letting most things slide.
Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad attempted to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day after sprouting antlers.
Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridgeitis.' After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.
But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice, he shut Mrs Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms (much to Myrtle's dismay), dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast, and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge, blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.
To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn; he remained confused and disoriented, and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry. Hermione could only imagine what had happened to him in the Vanishing Cabinet and his subsequent visit to the loo.
"Should we say something?" Hermione asked, pressing her cheek against the Charms window to get a better view of Mr and Mrs Montague as they marched inside. "About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?"
"Course not, he'll recover," Ron said dismissively.
"Anyway, more trouble for Umbridge, isn't it?" Harry added, sounding rather pleased.
He and Ron tapped the teacups they were supposed to be charming with their wands, prompting Hermione to roll her eyes. Harry's teacup sprouted four very short legs that failed to reach the desk, wriggling futilely in midair. Ron's cup grew four spindly legs that barely hoisted it off the desk before they collapsed, causing the cup to crack in two.
"Reparo," Hermione quickly mended Ron's cup with a wave of her wand. "That's all very well, but what if Montague's permanently injured?"
"Who cares?" Ron retorted irritably, watching as his teacup stood again, trembling on its weak legs. "Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? If you want to worry about anyone, Hermione, worry about me!"
"You?" she asked, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk and placing it in front of her. "Why should I be worried about you?"
"When Mum's next letter finally gets through Umbridge's screening process," Ron grumbled, holding his cup while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, "I'm going to be in deep trouble. Wouldn't be surprised if she sends another Howler."
"But—"
"It'll be my fault Fred and George left. You wait," Ron said darkly. "She'll say I should've stopped them, should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something... yeah, it'll be all my fault."
"Well, if she does say that, it'll be very unfair. You couldn't have done anything! And I'm sure she won't. If it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages."
"Yeah, but that's another thing—how did they get premises?" Ron asked, hitting his teacup so hard with his wand that its legs collapsed again. "It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford rent on a place in Diagon Alley. Mum'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that kind of gold."
"Well, yes, that occurred to me too," said Hermione, allowing her teacup to jog in neat little circles around Harry's, whose stubby legs were still unable to touch the desktop. "I've been wondering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful."
"He hasn't," Harry said curtly.
"How do you know?" Ron and Hermione asked together.
"Because—" Harry hesitated. "Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June."
A shocked silence followed, and Hermione's teacup jogged right over the edge of the desk, shattering on the floor.
"Oh, Harry, you didn't!" she said, stunned.
"Yes, I did," Harry replied defiantly. "And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold, and they'll be great at running a joke shop."
"But this is brilliant!" Ron said, looking thrilled. "It's all your fault, Harry—Mum can't blame me at all! Can I tell her?"
"Yeah, I suppose you'd better," Harry said dully, "especially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something."
Hermione was too shocked to speak for the rest of the class. As she reflected on the past year, everything started to make sense. She was impressed they'd managed to keep it so quiet.
She couldn't help but think about what had transpired in the graveyard and Voldemort's connection to Harry. Was Harry still working on his Occlumency lessons? She turned to ask him, but Harry interrupted her before she could start.
"It's no good nagging me—it's done," he said firmly. "Fred and George have got the gold—spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it—and I can't get it back from them, and I don't want to. So save your breath, Hermione."
"I wasn't going to say anything about Fred and George!" she said defensively.
Ron snorted in disbelief, earning him a sharp look from Hermione.
"No, I wasn't!" she retorted. "Actually, I was going to ask Harry when he's going to go back to Snape and ask for more Occlumency lessons."
"You can't tell me you've stopped having funny dreams," Hermione said, "because Ron told me you were muttering in your sleep again last night."
Harry shot Ron a furious look, and Ron had the decency to look embarrassed.
"You were only muttering a bit," Ron mumbled apologetically. "Something about 'just a bit further.'"
"I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch," Harry said quickly. "I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle."
Ron's ears went red, though Hermione remained sceptical, noting how quickly Harry had answered.
"You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?" said Hermione, looking at Harry intently. "You are keeping up with your Occlumency?"
"Of course I am," Harry said, trying to sound insulted by the question but not quite meeting her eyes.
Hermione made a mental note to keep nagging Harry in the coming days and weeks.
The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was set for the last weekend of May. Despite Slytherin's narrow defeat by Hufflepuff in their previous match, Gryffindor wasn't daring to hope for victory—mainly due to Ron's shaky goal-keeping record. However, no one mentioned it to him. Oddly enough, Ron seemed to have found a new sense of optimism.
"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" he said grimly to Hermione and Harry over breakfast on the morning of the match. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"
"You know," said Hermione, as she and Harry walked down to the pitch later amid a very excitable crowd, "I think Ron might actually do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly helped his confidence."
Luna Lovegood overtook them, a live eagle perched on her head.
"Oh, right, I forgot!" said Hermione, watching as the eagle flapped its wings while Luna walked serenely past a group of snickering Slytherins. "Cho will be playing, won't she?"
Harry grunted, which Hermione took as a "yes."
They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, clear day—ideal conditions for Ron, and Hermione found herself hoping against hope that he wouldn't give the Slytherins more reason to sing 'Weasley is our King.'
Lee Jordan, who had been unusually subdued since Fred and George left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out onto the pitch, he named the players with less enthusiasm than usual.
"And they're off!" said Lee. "Davies takes the Quaffle immediately—Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle—he dodges Johnson, dodges Bell, dodges Spinnet as well... heading straight for goal! He's going to shoot—and—" Lee swore loudly. "And he's scored."
Hermione and Harry groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. Predictably, the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing:
"Weasley cannot save a thing. He cannot block a single ring…"
"Harry," said a hoarse voice from behind them. "Hermione…"
Hermione turned and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats. He had clearly squeezed his way along the row behind, leaving first- and second-years looking rather flattened in his wake. Despite his size, Hagrid was hunched over as if trying not to be seen, though he was still a good four feet taller than everyone else.
"Listen," he whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"
"Er... can't it wait, Hagrid?" asked Harry. "Until the match is over?"
"No," said Hagrid. "No, Harry, it's gotta be now... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way... please?"
Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood, and both his eyes were blackened.
"Course," said Harry, "course we'll come."
Hermione and Harry edged back along their row of seats, causing much grumbling among the students who had to stand up for them. The people in Hagrid's row, however, weren't complaining, merely trying to make themselves as small as possible.
"I 'ppreciate this, you two, I really do," said Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended toward the lawn below. "I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin'."
"You mean Umbridge?" said Harry. "She won't. She's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her. Didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match."
"Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt," said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. "Give us more time."
"What is it, Hagrid?" asked Hermione, concern in her voice as they hurried across the grass toward the edge of the Forest.
"Yeh'll see in a mo'," said Hagrid, glancing over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. "Hey—did someone jus' score?"
"It'll be Ravenclaw," Harry said heavily.
"Good... good..." said Hagrid distractedly. "Tha's good..."
They had to jog to keep up with his long strides, each of his steps punctuated by a nervous glance around. When they reached his cabin, Hermione instinctively turned toward the front door, but Hagrid walked straight past it into the shade of the trees at the edge of the Forest, where he picked up a crossbow leaning against a tree. Realising they weren't following, he turned back.
"We're goin' in here," he said, jerking his shaggy head toward the Forest.
"Into the Forest?" said Hermione, puzzled. What on earth was he up to now?
"Yeah," said Hagrid. "C'mon now, quick, before we're spotted!"
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, then quickly ducked into the cover of the trees behind Hagrid, who was already striding deeper into the green gloom, his crossbow slung over his arm. They had to run to catch up with him.
"Hagrid, why are you armed?" Harry asked.
"Jus' a precaution," Hagrid replied, shrugging his massive shoulders.
"You didn't bring your crossbow the day you showed us the Thestrals," Hermione noted, her voice timid.
"Nah, well, we weren' goin' in so far then," Hagrid explained. "An' anyway, tha' was before Firenze left the Forest, wasn' it?"
"Why does Firenze leaving make a difference?" Hermione asked, curiosity piqued.
"'Cause the other centaurs are good an' riled at me, tha's why," Hagrid said quietly, glancing around nervously. "They used ter be – well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly – but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more."
He sighed deeply.
"Firenze said they're angry because he went to work for Dumbledore," Harry said, momentarily distracted by the conversation and tripping over a protruding root.
"Yeah," Hagrid replied heavily. "Well, angry doesn' cover it. Ruddy livid. If I hadn' stepped in, I reckon they'd've kicked Firenze ter death –"
"They attacked him?" Hermione said, shocked.
"Yep," Hagrid said gruffly, forcing his way through several low-hanging branches. "He had half the herd on to him."
"And you stopped it? By yourself?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"Course I did, couldn't stand by an' watch 'em kill 'im, could I?" Hagrid said, his tone growing hot with unexpected anger. "Lucky I was passin', really... an' I'd've thought Firenze mighta remembered tha' before he started sendin' me stupid warnin's!"
Hermione and Harry exchanged another startled look, but Hagrid, scowling, did not elaborate.
"Anyway," he said, his breathing a little heavier than usual, "since then the other centaurs've bin livid with me, an' the trouble is they've got a lot of influence in the Forest... cleverest creatures in here."
"Is that why we're here, Hagrid?" Hermione asked. "The centaurs?"
"Ah, no," Hagrid shook his head dismissively. "No, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate things, yeah ... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit."
On this cryptic note, he fell silent and forged ahead, taking one stride for every three of theirs, making it difficult for them to keep up.
The path became increasingly overgrown, and the trees grew so closely together as they ventured further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. They soon passed the clearing where Hagrid had shown them the Thestrals, and Hermione felt a growing sense of unease as Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began weaving through the trees towards the dark heart of the Forest.
"Hagrid!" Harry called, "where are we going?" They were both fighting their way through thickly knotted brambles that Hagrid had easily stepped over.
"Bit further," Hagrid said over his shoulder. "C'mon, Harry ... we need ter keep together now."
Keeping up with Hagrid was a struggle as he marched through branches and thickets of thorns as though they were cobwebs, while Hermione and Harry's robes were frequently snagged and tangled, forcing them to stop and free themselves. Hermione's arms and legs were soon covered in minor cuts and scratches. The Forest grew so dense that, at times, all Hermione could see of Hagrid was a massive dark shape moving ahead of them. With every step, her anxiety increased. The sounds around them seemed ominous in the muffled silence; the snap of a twig echoed loudly, and the slightest rustle of movement made Hermione jump in fear.
"Hagrid, would it be all right if we lit our wands?" Hermione asked quietly, trying not to disturb whatever might be lurking around them.
"Er ... all righ'," Hagrid whispered back. "In fact –"
He stopped suddenly and turned around; Hermione, caught off guard, walked straight into him and stumbled backwards. Harry quickly caught her before she hit the Forest floor.
"Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can ... fill yeh in," Hagrid said. "Before we ge' there, like."
"Good!" Hermione said as Harry set her back on her feet. They both murmured 'Lumos!' and their wand-tips ignited. In the wavering light, Hagrid's face swam into view, looking nervous and sad.
"Righ'," Hagrid began. "Well ... see ... the thing is ... there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, then looked back at him.
"But you've lasted this long –" Hermione said tentatively, ignoring the lack of surprise in her voice. "What makes you think –"
"Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha' Niffler in her office."
"And was it?" Harry asked, earning a frown from Hermione.
"No, it ruddy well wasn'!" Hagrid said indignantly. "On'y anythin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know she's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer ... well ... the special circumstances I'm abou' ter explain to yeh, I'd leave righ' now, before she's go' the chance ter do it in front o' the whole school, like she did with Trelawney."
They both started to protest, but Hagrid silenced them with a wave of his enormous hand.
"It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledore once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. An' you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll – yeh'll get through yer exams fine…" Hagrid's voice trembled, and Hermione's heart went out to him.
"Don' worry abou' me," he said hastily, as Hermione instinctively reached out to comfort him. He pulled out an enormous spotted handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and mopped his eyes with it. "Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this if I didn' have ter. See, if I go... well, I can't leave withou'... tellin' someone... because I'll – I'll need you two ter help me. An' Ron, if he's willin'."
"Of course we'll help you," said Harry at once. "What do you want us to do?"
Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted Harry wordlessly on the shoulder with such force that Harry was nearly knocked sideways into a tree.
"I knew yeh'd say yes," said Hagrid into his handkerchief, "but I won't... never... forget... well... c'mon... just a little bit further through here... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles…"
They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes until Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop.
"Really easy," he said softly. "Very quiet, now…"
They crept forward towards a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Hagrid. Trees had been ripped up at the roots all around the mound so that it stood on a bare patch of ground surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs. As Hermione scanned the area, movement caught her eye. She looked hard at the mound and saw it move…
"Sleepin'," breathed Hagrid.
It wasn't a mound of earth. It was… something. Her heart caught in her throat. It was… someone… A very, very large someone.
"Hagrid, who is he?" Hermione whispered, barely able to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Hagrid, you told us—"
Her wand was shaking in her hand. Harry, too, finally seemed to understand what they were looking at.
"Well – no – he didn' want ter come," said Hagrid, sounding desperate. "But I had ter bring him, Hermione, I had ter!"
"But why?" asked Hermione, her voice tight with anxiety. "Why – what – oh, Hagrid!"
"I knew if I jus' got him back," said Hagrid, sounding close to tears himself, "an' – an' taught him a few manners – I'd be able ter take him outside an' show ev'ryone he's harmless!"
"Harmless!" said Hermione shrilly, unable to stop herself. Hagrid made frantic hushing noises as the enormous creature before them grunted loudly and shifted in its sleep. Everything was suddenly making so much sense. "He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he? That's why you've had all these injuries!"
"He don' know his own strength!" said Hagrid earnestly. "An' he's gettin' better, he's not fightin' so much any more—"
"So, this is why it took you two months to get home!" said Hermione, piecing together more of the puzzle. "Oh, Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come? Wouldn't he have been happier with his own people?"
"They were all bullyin' him, Hermione, 'cause he's so small!" said Hagrid.
"Small?" said Hermione, her voice rising. "Small?" She was near a full-blown panic attack.
"Hermione, I couldn' leave him," said Hagrid, tears trickling down his bruised face into his beard. "See—he's my brother!"
Hermione could only stare at him, her mouth agape.
"Hagrid, when you say 'brother,'" Harry said slowly, "do you mean—?"
"Well – half-brother," amended Hagrid. "Turns out me mother took up with another giant when she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here—"
"Grawp?" said Harry.
"Yeah ... well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name," said Hagrid anxiously. "He don' speak a lot of English... I've bin tryin' ter teach him... anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me. See, with giantesses, what counts is producin' good big kids, and he's always been a bit on the runty side fer a giant – only sixteen foot—"
"Oh, yes, tiny!" said Hermione, with a kind of hysterical sarcasm. She desperately wished she had some Calming Draught. "Absolutely minuscule!"
"He was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them – I jus' couldn' leave him—"
"Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?" asked Harry.
"She – well, she could see it was important ter me," said Hagrid, twisting his enormous hands. "Bu' – bu' she got a bit tired o' him after a while, I must admit... so we split up on the journey home... she promised not ter tell anyone, though…"
"How on earth did you get him back without anyone noticing?" said Harry.
"Well, tha's why it took so long, see," said Hagrid. "Could only travel by night an' through wild country an' stuff. Course, he covers the ground pretty well when he wants ter, but he kept wantin' ter go back."
"Oh, Hagrid, why on earth didn't you let him!" said Hermione, flopping down on a ripped-up tree and burying her face in her hands. "What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here!"
"Well, now—'violent'—tha's a bit harsh," said Hagrid, still twisting his hands agitatedly. "I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's been in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well."
"What are those ropes for, then?" Harry asked.
"You have to keep him tied up?" said Hermione faintly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her.
"Well... yeah..." said Hagrid, looking anxious. "See—it's like I say—he doesn't really know his own strength."
"So, what is it you want Harry and Ron and me to do?" Hermione asked apprehensively, though she had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
"Look after him," said Hagrid croakily. "After I'm gone."
Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks.
"What does that involve, exactly?" Hermione asked, trying to keep calm even as a surge of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Harry agreeing to do anything Hagrid asked was not exactly reassuring.
"Not food or anythin'!" Hagrid said eagerly. "He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff… No, it's company he needs. If I jus' knew someone was carryin' on tryin' ter help him a bit… teachin' him, yeh know."
Hermione remained silent, turning back to the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground before them. She noticed Harry doing the same. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp appeared oddly misshapen. What might have been mistaken for a vast mossy boulder beside the earthen mound, she now recognised as Grawp's head. It was disproportionately large, almost perfectly round, and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of his head, which seemed to sit directly upon his shoulders, with little or no neck in between. His broad back strained against the dirty brownish smock of animal skins sewn roughly together, and his legs were curled up under his body. Hermione could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor.
"You want us to teach him," Harry said, his voice hollow.
"Yeah – even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit," said Hagrid hopefully. "'Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like 'im really, an' want 'im ter stay."
Harry glanced at Hermione, who peered back at him from between her fingers. "Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?" he said, managing a weak smile. Hermione gave a very shaky laugh, wishing absurdly that they were dealing with a dragon again. She couldn't help but wonder what a Muggle psychologist would make of Hagrid's tendency to "rescue" dangerous creatures.
"Yeh'll do it, then?" said Hagrid, who didn't seem to have caught what Harry had just said.
"We'll… we'll try, Hagrid," Harry replied, though his tone made it clear that this was more a reluctant promise than a confident assertion.
Hermione's stomach dropped. She had known Harry would say yes, but hearing him agree made it all too real.
"I knew I could count on yeh, Harry," Hagrid said, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. "An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like... I know yeh've got exams... if yeh could jus' nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'im. I'll wake 'im up, then – introduce yeh –"
"Wha—no!" Hermione cried, jumping up. "Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need –"
But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding toward Grawp. When he was about ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Hermione and Harry, and then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back with the end of the bough.
The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose, twittering from their perches and soaring away. In front of Hermione and Harry, the gigantic Grawp was rising from the ground, and he shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself onto his knees. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.
"All righ', Grawpy?" said Hagrid in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. "Had a nice sleep, eh?"
Hermione and Harry retreated as far as they could while still keeping the giant within their sights. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Grawp kneel between two trees he had not yet uprooted. She looked up into his startlingly huge face, which resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. The features seemed to have been crudely hewn onto a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks. The eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and were still half-gummed together with sleep.
Hermione felt a mix of awe and fear. She couldn't help but think of all the information she had read about giants and how dangerous they could be. Yet, there was something almost childlike about Grawp's sleepy demeanour. She observed him closely, her analytical mind noting the dirt-streaked skin and the immense size of his knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball. Her breath caught as he raised those dirty knuckles to his eyes and rubbed vigorously. Without warning, Grawp pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility, causing Hermione to take an involuntary step back.
Her mind raced through potential spells and strategies. She had read extensively about giants, but nothing had prepared her for this real-life encounter.
"Oh my!" Hermione squeaked, her voice trembling with fear.
The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously under the strain. He was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Grawp gazed blearily around, reaching out a hand the size of a beach umbrella to seize a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine. With a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it, he turned the nest upside-down; eggs fell like grenades toward the ground, and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself.
"Anyway, Grawpy," shouted Hagrid, looking up apprehensively in case more eggs fell, "I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?"
But Grawp merely gave another low roar. It was hard to tell whether he was listening to Hagrid or even recognized the sounds as speech. He had now seized the top of the pine tree and was pulling it toward him, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when he let go.
"Now, Grawpy, don' do that!" shouted Hagrid. "Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others—"
Sure enough, Hermione could see the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack.
"I got company for yeh!" Hagrid shouted. "Company, see! Look down, yeh big buffoon, I brought yeh some friends!"
A singular thought screamed through Hermione's head: After everything they had been through in the past five years, was this really how she was going to die?
"Oh, Hagrid, don't," moaned Hermione in resignation, but Hagrid raised the bough again and gave Grawp's knee a sharp poke.
The giant let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and showered Hagrid with a rain of pine needles. Grawp then looked down, finally noticing Harry and Hermione.
"This," said Hagrid, hastening over to where Harry and Hermione stood, "is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter! He migh' be comin' ter visit yeh if I have ter go away, understand?"
Grawp had only just realised that Harry and Hermione were there. They watched in great trepidation as he lowered his massive boulder of a head so that he could peer blearily at them.
"An' this is Hermione, see? Her—" Hagrid hesitated. Turning to Hermione, he asked, "Would yeh mind if he called yeh Hermy, Hermione? On'y it's a difficult name fer him ter remember."
"No, not at all," Hermione said, entirely resigned to her fate. She was pretty sure her trauma response had kicked in, and she now found her impending demise almost absurdly entertaining.
"This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Isn't that nice? Eh? Two friends fer yeh ter— GRAWPY, NO!"
Grawp's hand shot out toward Hermione, but Harry seized her and pulled her backwards behind the tree so that Grawp's fist scraped the trunk but closed on thin air.
"BAD BOY, GRAWPY!" they heard Hagrid yelling as Hermione clung to Harry behind the tree, shaking and whimpering. The sudden, very real danger snapped Hermione out of her numb state. "VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON'T GRAB—OUCH!"
Hermione peeked out from around the trunk and saw Hagrid lying on his back, his hand over his nose. Grawp, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine tree as far as it would go.
"Righ'," said Hagrid thickly, getting up with one hand pinching his bleeding nose and the other grasping his crossbow. "Well... there yeh are... yeh've met him an' – an' now he'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah... well…"
He looked up at Grawp, who was now pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on his face; the roots were creaking as he ripped them away from the ground.
"Well, I reckon that's enough fer one day," said Hagrid. "We'll – er – we'll go back now, shall we?"
Hermione and Harry nodded quickly. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees.
Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had finally pulled over the pine tree. Hermione's face was pale and set, her mind racing. What would happen when somebody discovered that Hagrid had hidden Grawp in the Forbidden Forest? How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself into thinking that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans?
"Hold it," said Hagrid abruptly, just as Hermione and Harry struggled through a patch of thick knotgrass behind him. He pulled an arrow from the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Hermione and Harry raised their wands; now that they had stopped walking, they, too, could hear movement close by.
"Oh, blimey," said Hagrid quietly.
"I thought we told you, Hagrid," said a deep male voice that reverberated through the forest, "that you are no longer welcome here?"
A man's naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows and a longbow were slung over his shoulders.
"How are yeh, Magorian?" said Hagrid warily.
The trees behind the centaur rustled, and four or five more centaurs emerged behind him. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She recognised another of the centaurs, Bane, from their first year.
"So," Bane said with a nasty inflection in his voice before turning immediately to Magorian. "We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed his face in the Forest again?"
"'This human' now, am I?" said Hagrid testily. "Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?"
"You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid," said Magorian. "Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonoured us."
"I dunno how yeh work that out," said Hagrid impatiently. "He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore—"
"Firenze has entered into servitude to humans," said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face.
"Servitude!" said Hagrid scathingly. "He's doin' Dumbledore a favour, is all—"
"He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans," said Magorian quietly. "There can be no return from such disgrace."
"If yeh say so," said Hagrid, shrugging, "but personally, I think yeh're makin' a big mistake—"
"As are you, human," said Bane, "coming back into our Forest when we warned you—"
"Now, yeh listen ter me," said Hagrid angrily, causing Hermione's heart to race. "I'll have less of the 'our' Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here—"
Hermione's mind raced with dread. Was this really how they were going to die? She couldn't help but deliriously contemplate the pros and cons of being killed by a giant or a herd of centaurs.
"No more is it up to you, Hagrid," said Magorian smoothly. "I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young—"
"They're not his!" interrupted Bane contemptuously. "Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze's teachings."
"Nevertheless," said Magorian calmly, "the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime – we do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us."
"I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!" said Hagrid loudly.
"Hagrid," said Hermione in a high-pitched and terrified voice, as both Bane and the grey centaur pawed at the ground, "let's go, please let's go!"
Hagrid moved forward, but his crossbow was still raised, and his eyes were fixed threateningly upon Magorian.
"We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!" Magorian called after them as the centaurs slipped out of sight. "And our tolerance is waning!"
Hagrid turned and appeared to want to walk straight back to Magorian.
"Yeh'll tolerate 'im as long as he's here, it's as much his Forest as yours!" he yelled, as Hermione and Harry both pushed with all their might against Hagrid's moleskin waistcoat in an effort to keep him moving forward. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it.
"Calm down, you two," he said, turning to walk on while they panted along behind him. "Ruddy old mules, though, eh?"
"Hagrid," said Hermione breathlessly, skirting the patch of nettles they had passed on their way there, "if the centaurs don't want humans in the Forest, it doesn't really look as though Harry and I will be able—"
"Ah, you heard what they said," said Hagrid dismissively, "they wouldn't hurt foals – I mean, kids. Anyway, we can' let ourselves be pushed aroun' by that lot."
"Nice try," Harry murmured to Hermione, who looked crestfallen.
At last, they rejoined the path, and after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they could see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.
"Was that another goal?" asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. "Or d'yeh reckon the match is over?"
"I don't know," said Hermione miserably. She was a hot mess. Her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places, and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. Harry looked almost as bad as she did.
"I reckon it's over, yeh know!" said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. "Look – there's people comin' out already – if yeh two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know yeh weren't there!"
"Good idea," said Harry. "Well ... see you later, then, Hagrid."
"I don't believe him," said Hermione in a very unsteady voice the moment they were out of earshot of Hagrid. She honestly couldn't think of any other words. "I don't believe him. I really don't believe him."
"Calm down," said Harry.
Hermione came to a halt and whipped around to glare at Harry. "Calm down!" she said feverishly. "A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I – don't – believe – him!"
"We haven't got to do anything yet!" Harry said in a quiet voice as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. "He's not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out, and that might not even happen."
"Oh, come off it, Harry!" said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. "Of course he's going to be chucked out, and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?"
There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears as soon as she realised what had come out of her mouth.
"You didn't mean that," said Harry quietly.
"No... well... all right... I didn't," she said, wiping her eyes angrily. "But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself – for us?"
"I dunno—"
"Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King …"
"And I wish they'd stop singing that stupid song," said Hermione miserably, "haven't they gloated enough?"
A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.
"Oh, let's get in before we have to meet the Slytherins," said Hermione.
"Weasley can save anything,
He never leaves a single ring,
That's why Gryffindors all sing:
Weasley is our King."
"Hermione…" said Harry slowly.
Hermione turned towards Harry, unable to read his face. She looked ahead of them, towards the rush of students. The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders.
"Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King,
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King…"
"No?" said Hermione in a hushed voice, not believing her eyes and ears.
"YES!" said Harry loudly.
"HARRY! HERMIONE!" yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"
They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle, and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Hermione and Harry watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of 'Weasley is our King' died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading.
"We'll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?" said Harry.
"Yes, all right," said Hermione wearily. "I'm not in any hurry."
They climbed the steps together. At the front doors, both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Hermione shook her head, too emotionally tired to do much more.